


Haircut

by cosmiccrumbs



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Dermatillomania, Gen, Trichotillomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmiccrumbs/pseuds/cosmiccrumbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired by a live stream from last night.</p></blockquote>





	Haircut

Curtis drifted, lulled by the continuous rocking of the train and the babble of sound of the other tail passengers. He leaned against the wall of his bunk, legs sticking over the edge while his hand drifted through his hair. Ah, there it was. He clutched at the textured hair near the crown of his head and with a careful tug, and pop, the hair was removed. Curtis brought the end to his mouth, carefully rubbing the white bulb along his lip, savoring the sensation before biting it off. He dragged the end and back and forth, relishing the texture of the hair between his lips. Soon, he dropped the hair and his hand returned to his head searching for another one.

Even before the train Curtis’s hands seemed to have a magnet in them that directed his fingers to search for hairs that didn’t belong on his scalp. Hairs a different length then the rest, or those not smooth just had to go. Being in the tail of the train, his pulling grew more prolific whenever his hair got long enough. For a long while, he had tried to grow his hair longer in order to keep warm in the cold, but had given up when he ended up with a quarter sized bald spot at the crown of his head.

“Curtis,” a rough Irish voice said, ruining Curtis’s reverie.

“What?” he asked gruffly, pulling his black beanie on, glaring at the young man in front of him.

“Agnus is cutting hair and giving shaves, if you want one,” Edgar said, glancing down to where Curtis was picking at his fingers before looking away.

“Yeah, it’s probably time,” Curtis said, hands brushing the ends of his hair that peeked out from underneath his beanie. He clambered off his bunk and made his way over to where a crowd had gathered.

He waited his turn, smiling at a few children playing while working a hole into the side of his right index finger. Finally satisfied by the smooth edges, he stuck the bleeding finger into his mouth. The picking took the place of pulling when his hair was too short. The self-created sores on his fingers blended in to those created from living in the tail of the train.

“Short as you can,” he told Agnus when it was finally his turn and asked how much hair he wanted off. He pulled his beanie into his lap, playing with a loose threat to avoid picking at an imaginary hangnail. A short time later, Curtis was running his hands over hair short enough that he could barely grasp a strand. He pulled the beanie back on and thanked Agnus.

Now, his hair was one less thing to worry about.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a live stream from last night.


End file.
